Counting Stars
by oceans-of-light
Summary: Emma thought her troubles might finally leave her alone for a little bit, but circumstances and fate seem to have a very different idea. How does Hook return to Storybrooke, and who is Tamara really? A continuation of the show, starting from 2x17 but canon with 2x18. AU after that. Slow burning CS, with some Baelfire/Hook backstory & a host of other characters to be intro'd later.
1. Chapter One

A/N: What's this? A new story, when _The Boy Who Died_ lies unfinished, wailing at me from its un-updated state? Yeah … whoopsie. But, that said, any type of writing is a good type of writing, as far as I'm concerned. Hopefully, branching out into a new fandom, writing new characters and stories, will give me enough inspiration to return to_ TBWD_'s story soon. But, don't despair; if there's anything _Once Upon A Time _has taught me, it's that here's always hope.

Now, about this fic: it's a continuation of the show, starting from around the timeline of 2x17, but with the canon of 2x18. As I miss Captain Hook somethin' terrible, and I am a little befuddled as to how he's going to get to Storybrooke, I thought I'd write my own version of events. I have no idea where _Once_ is going with Tamara, but I know the direction this fic's gonna take her and I hope you'll all like it!

The title of this fic is from the song by OneRepublic – I just felt it was so perfect for this story and the way I've decided to write the characters. Check it out, hell, check out their entire _Native _album – it is brilliant!

Now, enough with the fangirling, and on with the show. A quick note: this is also unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine alone.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time, nor any of the other Disney (or otherwise) related characters that may or may not appear. Everything you recognize belongs to their respective owners; I'm just playing around with them.

_**Counting Stars**_

_Chapter One_

The last thing Hook could remember was the rush of ecstasy that flooded through him as he plunged his hook into Rumpelstiltskin's chest. The fear and cowardice had returned to the crocodile's eyes in that instant, but before Hook even had the time to savour his victory, there had been a fierce, resounding pain in his head, and then smothering blackness.

Now, who knows how much later, his head felt like it had been sliced open with sword, or as if he'd just woken up after a terribly fun night. Hook groaned, cursing, and opened his eyes. Bright stars burst as his eyes adjusted to the lights in front of him, and he blinked several times trying to clear his vision. He made to move rub his head, but instead, cold metal cut into his wrist, restraining him.

His brain was still fuzzy from being unconscious, so it took Hook several moments to realize that he was handcuffed once more. He swore and, tugged cold metal restraining him. It was the same handcuff Emma Swan had used to restrict him to the hospital bed several days ago, and it was just as impossible to break off now as it had been before. That woman had a thing for shackling him to the most inconvenient places … a beanstalk, a hospital bed, and now whatever this strange contraption he was now attached to was.

Trying to ignore the pain in his head and wishing it would just clear already, he glanced at his other arm, and muttered another curse as he saw only the stump of it. She'd taken his hook, like he knew she would. If he'd had his hook, he could've easily sheared the metal cuff off, just as he'd done to the manacles that had held that princess whose heart he'd stolen. No doubt Emma knew that, too.

Damn Swan.

A cool voice interrupted Hook's thoughts, making him jump in surprise. "Well, well, I'd say that Neal's ex is pretty damn strong if she was able to knock you out for a whole day and part of the next too."

Hook looked over to the doorway of the small room he was in to see that the owner of the voice was a pretty, young woman, leaning against the closed door. She had thick, straight black hair, beautiful dark skin and bright, shining eyes. She smiled as Hook's eyes looked her over, and she stepped away from the doorway, allowing him a better look. "Have a nice rest?"

Hook regarded her warily. There was something familiar about her, the way she cocked her head to the side, and the way that her eyes almost seemed to glow with a sort of electricity, but Hook couldn't place the memory. "Who the bloody hell are you?" he demanded.

"That's not important right now," the woman said, coming closer to Hook. There _was_ something familiar about her, her voice, her confident stride … hmm. "For now, think of me as a friend."

"A friend," Hook repeated dully. He sighed dramatically, and tilted his head to his handcuffed wrist. "Well, then, be a _friend_ and find a way to get this bloody thing off of me."

"Oh, I have the key," she said, pulling out just that from her jacket pocket. She twirled the key ring once over a slender finger, and then slid it back into her pocket, and chuckled. "All in good time, Hook."

He stared at her, and narrowed his eyes. That she knew his name made Hook's suspicions that he did indeed know her deepen. He strained his memory for some recollection of the woman before him, but frustratingly came up blank. "Who are you?" he repeated.

She paused for a moment, and then flicked her ebony hair over her shoulder. "I doubt you've heard of me before."

_Liar_, Hook thought, watching her closely. He had become quite adept at reading people over his three hundred years, and this woman was lying as clear as day. "But," he said slowly, deciding to let her lie stand for now, "You've heard of me."

"You're quite the popular topic of conversation around these parts recently," she said lightly.

"When am I not," he replied, dryly, tugging at the handcuff again. He flicked his eyes over her, but was still unable to place her in his mind. "Since you know my name, _friend, _I think it only fair that I know yours."

She paused for a moment. "Tamara."

Hmm. Tamara. The name was unfamiliar, but names meant very little to Hook – after all, it was easy to change your name. Hook stared at her, trying to deduce anything else about her but she was impossible to place. After a few moments, he leaned back against the wall, and waited for her to continue speaking.

She sensed his expectance, and bent down crouch at eye level with him. "I've waited a very long time to meet someone like you in this world, Captain." Her eyes lingered on his face for a few moments, flickering to the old scar on his cheek, and then her smile widened. "A very long time, indeed."

* * *

For the first time since Emma and Mary Margaret had returned from the ruined Enchanted Forest, it was finally a quiet enough day in Storybrooke for Emma to head to the sheriff's station and try to get some work done.

David was at home with Mary Margaret, who was still torn up over what she'd done to Cora, and Emma couldn't stay there any longer. She felt terrible for what Mary Margaret had done, not for Cora's sake, but for her mother's. Mary Margaret was a total wreck over what she had done, and while Emma empathized with her, wallowing in misery was no way to move on.

David was convinced Mary Margaret just needed time, and Emma had reluctantly let him try his method first. She had never been one for wallowing, and she didn't think freaking Snow White of all people was either. Though, maybe Mary Margaret was, and they were technically 'both' people, right? Or something. David had tried to explain it all to her, but she still didn't get it. Just thinking of it gave her a headache.

Emma unlocked the door to the sheriff's station, and flicked on the lights as she went by. The station was messy, since no one had been there in several days, and she groaned as she thought of the day's work of cleaning it would no doubt to take to put it all back in order. Unfiled papers and empty coffee cups were strewn over David's desk, Emma's former deputy desk, and from what she could see, her father was not the most organized man in the world. She chuckled, slightly, placing her own coffee cup down on his desk as she made to sweep away David's empty ones.

As she did so, Emma noticed that David had an array of photo frames on his desk. There were several pictures of him and Mary Margaret, and a few of Henry pulling funny faces at the camera, and, to her shock, pictures of her, as well.

Emma's heart clenched at the sight, and a rush of emotion hit her hard. In all the hysteria and chaos that had occurred after the curse had been broken, she'd never really gotten a chance to really accept, nor process, the fact that Emma Swan, the girl who had always been alone, had a real family now. A family that loved her, parents that loved her so much they sacrificed their own lives to make sure she would live.

And, there they were. Her mother and father smiling up at her from picture after picture. And there she was too, pictures sitting innocently on her father's work desk beside those of her parents, just as the little girl Emma had once been had always imagined. It was so normal, so _right_, to see pictures of Emma beside those of her parents.

This was how it was supposed to be, Emma thought, picking up a picture of David and Mary Margaret. Her father was supposed to have pictures of Emma on his desk, but not just the ones from when she was an adult. There should be Emma's baby pictures. There should be the picture of her on her first bike ride, her first day of middle school, her first high school dance, her first date. Emma shouldn't have had to imagine seeing pictures of herself on her own father's desk when she was a little girl; she should've been able to go to his office and see it for herself.

Emma wiped her cheek then, ashamed of the sudden emotion that had barrelled into her, and looked down at the picture in her hands once more. It had been taken before the curse had been broken, so it was technically Mary Margaret and David, not Snow and Charming, but it was still their faces smiling up at her.

She laughed shortly, and felt slightly better at the absurdity of the situation she was in. It was the weirdest thing, looking at Mary Margaret and David, and knowing that they were her parents. They did not look like Prince Charming and Snow White, and certainly not like they were the parents of a twenty eight year old woman. The faceless people that Emma had imagined her parents to be now had faces and voices and hands she could actually touch and love that she could actually feel. The couple in those pictures, the couple that Emma had seen on so many pages of Henry's storybook, hell, that couple that existed in a goddamn _Disney_ movie, were Emma's parents. Her actual, real life parents.

Whoa.

She'd dreamed, as a child, as to who her parents were, hoping and praying that one day, _one day, _they'd come rescue her from whatever foster home hell she was in. She'd gotten older, gotten bitterer, but still the thought, the _dream, _that one day she'd discover who they were and why they had given her away had never left her.

Now … now at twenty eight (nearly twenty nine!) to discover that the parents she'd thought had abandoned her on a side of the road because they hadn't wanted her, were Snow White and Prince Charming? It was downright bizarre. And strange. And unbelievable. And sometimes it just felt like Emma had fallen into a very weird dream and she was going to wake up any moment, and she'd be back in her apartment in Boston, where none of this had ever happened.

Getting to know her son had been strange enough, but now her parents too? Snow and Charming were so eager to play the parent to Emma, especially now that they were all reunited in Storybrooke, but Emma held back. Having them here now didn't change the fact that Emma had spent countless nights imagining all the possible scenarios as to why she'd had to grow up without them, and the countless days she'd spent alone and hating them for leaving her. And, having them here now, knowing everything Snow and Charming had given up so that Emma could grow up free from Regina's curse, made her feel guilty for hating them for what they had done to her. But, then, those feelings of guilt would pass as quickly as she felt them and she would remember all the days of her life when all she had wished for was a mommy or a daddy like all the other kids had. She'd go back to that same, confused little girl who just didn't understand, and who couldn't let go.

_I know why you gave me up_, Henry had said to her once. _It's the same reason Snow White gave you away – she wanted to give you your best chance_.

That was exactly what she'd done for Henry, and she knew that was what Snow and Charming had done it for. While Henry may have accepted that and was even, maybe, grateful for it, Emma found she just couldn't be. Whatever kind of monster Regina could be, she loved Henry with all her heart, and Henry had grown up in a loving home.

Maybe that was the reason, Emma thought sadly, as she put down the picture of her parents. They'd thought saving her from Regina's curse was giving her her best shot, but, as Emma had said to them when the curse had been broken, at least with the curse, they would've been together. Emma wouldn't have had to grow up in the foster system, where she was just a cheque that came once a month, not a real person who had needs just like any other child.

Those terrible abandonment issues that still crippled her every moment wouldn't go away overnight. It was going to take a lot of work to heal her heart, for her to forgive Snow and Charming for letting her grow up without them. And in this town, with all the crazy things that were now Emma's everyday life, Emma didn't know when she'd find the time to just sit down with David and Mary Margaret and try to work through all their issues.

Rubbing her cheeks again, Emma turned to throw David's used coffee cups out into the trash, passing her own office as she did so. She glanced in it only slightly, and expecting to see nothing really out of the ordinary, but then froze.

Sitting as innocently as the pictures sat on David's desk, was a black gloved, very much detached, hand.

* * *

Hook raised an eyebrow at Tamara, shifting slightly away from her close proximity and the unnerving stare she was giving him. Usually, Hook never shied away from a woman, but there was something off about Tamara that made him recoil. "Someone like me?" he echoed.

"Oh, yes," she said, unaffected by his discomfort. "I know exactly who you are, Captain, and what you want. And I'm the only one who can help you get it."

"What I want," Hook began, a dark delight filling his voice at the memory of his triumph. "I already have. Rumpelstiltskin is dead."

Tamara laughed, and the sound made small hairs on the back of Hook's neck stand up. "Oh, Hook. I wish that were true, if only for your sake."

The surge of victory was immediately replaced by a cold terror at the thought that he'd failed to kill the crocodile once again. "What're you talking about?"

She pulled a strange device out of her pocket; a cellphone. In the little time Hook had been in this world, mostly the damn city he'd had to traverse to find the crocodile in, he'd seen almost every single person with one of those.

Tamara shook the phone in his face. "My fiancé just called and invited me to this sweet little town in Maine. He wants me to meet his family, and that includes his father. Rumpelstiltskin." She paused, letting the words sink in, and then continued, "Now, why would he tell me about his father if he had succumbed to his injuries?"

Hook just stared at her, black spots forming in front of his eyes as fury and rage exploded inside of him. He didn't even register the fact that she'd mentioned the crocodile's son, his mind frozen on the announcement that Rumpelstiltskin had survived.

_No_.

"You're lying," he said, desperately. "He's dead, he has to be –"

Tamara laughed, and cut him off. "I'm not lying, Hook. It's true; Rumpelstiltskin is still alive. After all these years, you _failed._"

He'd failed. The words cut Hook like a sword, and he leaned back at their force. It wasn't possible, it shouldn't have been possible. If it was true, and he was starting to think that it truly was, then all his hard work was for naught.

He'd vowed to get revenge on the crocodile the moment he'd seen the light fade from Milah's jade eyes, and that thought had consumed him for more than three hundred years. He'd fought tooth and nail to figure out a way to kill Rumpelstiltskin, sacrificed so much – lost so much – to find a way. And here Hook was, in a realm without bloody magic, where the Dark One was powerless, but yet … but yet, he'd still failed.

It was impossible.

He'd stabbed Rumpelstiltskin, seen the man's fear as he realized what was happening to him. If the sharp edge of his hook hadn't done in the crocodile, the poison on it ... the poison should have worked! It had been his own creation, an incurable poison he'd perfected in his years in Neverland. He leaned back against the wall, trying to calm his racing mind. No, no, no. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be true.

Hook looked back to Tamara, his eyes wild and his mind racing. "How did he survive?" he managed to spit out, leaning forward and ignoring the biting pain in his wrist from the handcuff. "The – the poison is incurable in this land."

She almost looked sorry for him. "You've underestimated your crocodile again, Hook. He was never going to let a simple 'poisoned hook' stop him, not when he's got manipulation and the new knowledge of family on his side."

New knowledge of family? What the bloody hell was she talking about? He gave her a bewildered look, and she sighed. "I'll explain everything to you later, but for now, can we get onto the real reason I'm here?"

He stared at her for a few, silent moments, his mind still trying to process what had happened. He had been so close, so close to finally bringing justice to Milah, that nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

"What, you didn't just want to talk to me, to rub my failure in my face?" he snarled finally, pulling viciously at the handcuff again and relishing in the resulting pain in his wrist. At least a physical pain could distract him from the hurricane of agony inside of him.

"I didn't come here to gloat, and even though our conversation has been nothing but tantalizing so far, I'm sure you'd be much more interested in why I'm here than us continuing to banter."

Hook stared at the strange woman in front of him, and stopped tugging at his wrist. "Then. Get. On. With. It."

She looked mildly annoyed, and said, simply, "I'm going to help you kill Rumpelstiltskin."

He sneered at her; of course that was her offer. "And why in the hell would you do that?"

"Because you're going to help me in return," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "There's magic in Storybrooke, and with that magic, you can't kill Rumpelstiltskin. With that magic stuck in Storybrooke, I can't have it." She leaned closer to Hook, so close that Hook could smell her fresh, minty breath. "Here's my offer," she whispered, her words slow and deliberate. "If you help me get the magic from that town, then you'll be free to kill your crocodile. You help me, I help you. It's as simple as that."

Even if Hook believed her for a second, he sincerely doubted that it would be that simple – experience was screaming otherwise. He regarded her coolly; the nagging feeling that Hook knew her had heightened at the thought that she wanted the magic from Storybrooke, hell how she even knew about it. From what Hook had gathered about this world, no one other than the people Regina had cursed even knew about magic. There was no way this Tamara was just some normal woman who somehow managed to get caught up with magic.

"You've got it all sorted, I see," Hook said, finally.

She smiled. "I have _everything_ worked out. The only missing puzzle piece is you. If you help me, Hook, then you will have won yourself a very powerful ally. In this world, we call that a win, win." She titled her head to the side, watching him closely. "What do you say?"

Hook had a great many things to say, but he remained silent for several minutes, thinking. As entering into deals tended to fail rather spectacularly for Hook these days, agreeing to anything with Tamara was going to end up hurting him in the end. He'd been promised his vengeance twenty eight years ago by the Evil Queen, and then again by her mother mere hours later, but he'd been incredibly foolish to even think for a moment that either of those two women would aid him in his quest. Regina and Cora had been using him, he saw that now, and it infuriated him to no end that he'd fallen for it. Tamara was obviously the same as them; using him for whatever her ultimate goal was. She was using his desperation for the crocodile's death to get Hook to do what she wanted, and Hook knew it.

It was better to just go it alone, Hook thought. He had always known that, but now he saw it to have never been truer. Depending on anyone, _trusting _anyone, was pointless. They'd all betray him in the end, and he would be alone once more, still trapped on the never ending quest to find justice for Milah.

Goddamn crocodile, goddamn Cora, goddam Regina, goddamn Swan, goddamn everything.

He sat in his silence for a few moments, willing to let Tamara walk away, her proposition unanswered, but something held him back. Sure, working with Tamara would end up backfiring, but Hook couldn't deny that he didn't really have any other options at the moment. He was currently handcuffed in a strange city, with no hook and no hope of escaping whatever room Swan had locked him in. If he worked with Tamara, then fate would probably favour him for a while, and when it went sour, he could actually be prepared.

So, with that in mind, he put on his most charming smile, the hurricane slowing as the comfort of revenge settled back onto him like an old friend. "Let's get going."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm not sure if this is my strongest work, but I had fun writing it, so why not post it? I was inspired by a lot of things on tumblr, especially theories and all, so thanks so much everyone for being my inspiration! Thanks again for reading, and let me know what you thought! xoxo


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Guess who saw the promo for 2x19 and screamed "CALLED IT!" when she saw that Hook was going to be working with Tamara? This chick right here. I was watching with two of my friends and they looked at me like I was crazy, but shh, don't tell them I actually am.

In this chapter: Emma finds something that confuses her, Hook is amused by one of our world's handy devices (no pun intended), both have unwelcome guests in their thoughts, and we venture into our first flashback! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time, nor any of the other Disney (or otherwise) related characters that may or may not appear. Everything you recognize belongs to their respective owners; I'm just playing around with them.

_Chapter Two _

For several moments Emma just stared at the black gloved hand, sitting oh-so-innocently on her desk, trying to make sense of why the hell there was a – oh, of course. Hook. She rolled her eyes at her momentary forgetfulness, and threw the coffee cups into the trash can as she strode over to her desk. David had told her that Hook had ambushed him in here before he'd sailed to Manhattan, stealing back his hook and knocking David out in the process.

Feeling slightly bad for David, but unable to stop herself, Emma laughed as picked up one of Hook's 'other attachments', as he'd so delicately put it in the hospital, to throw it into her desk drawer. He had left it unlocked when he'd stolen his hook, and David hadn't bothered to lock it again in the following commotion. The hook itself, which she'd taken back from the unconscious pirate in New York, was currently locked in Emma's bedside table until she found a good enough place to dispose of it for good.

Emma paused as she opened the desk drawer, staring at the black scarf with which Hook had bandaged her hand on top of the beanstalk. The first time she'd returned to the sheriff station after being in the Enchanted Forest had been to grab her badge and a new gun. She'd taken off her filthy, red leather jacket, and the scarf had fallen out of the pocket. And, in that moment, thrilled with the fact that she and Snow had made it to Storybrooke, and not (as far as she knew then) Hook and Cora, she'd picked it up and placed it in her desk drawer.

Emma put down the hand on her desk top, and hesitantly retrieved the scarf from the drawer. It was still stiff with her dried blood, and smelt strongly of the spiced rum Hook had poured over her hand to sterilize her wound. As she held it, her fingers running over its rough surface, Hook'swords to her when he'd left her in Rumpelstiltskin's cell whispered through her mind: _A pirate always keeps a souvenir of their conquest_. She shivered, clutching the scarf tighter as she realized that that was exactly what she'd done. _You'd make a hell of a pirate_.

Goddammit.

Emma hadn't even realized that she'd done exactly what Hook had done to her with the giant's bean. No wonder Hook could read her so easily; they were more alike than she cared to admit. That was a terrifying thought. The very reason she'd left him on the beanstalk in the first place was the fact that he could see right through her as though she was made of glass; no one had been able to see through her walls so easily like Hook had, and hell, she'd only known him for a couple of hours at that point!

Staring at the scarf, Emma wondered briefly what thoughts had run through Hook's mind when he'd seen it there, or if he'd even noticed that it was his. He probably did; he probably wondered what the hell it was doing there, if Emma was some crazy who collected her old bandages like other people collected stamps. Or (and more likely, she thought drolly) it probably gave him some sort of sick satisfaction to see that she'd kept it, even after everything. The beanstalk betrayal, Rumpelstiltskin's cell, Emma knocking him out more times than she could count and yet here was Hook's dirty, bloody, stained, scarf.

She could just see his glowing smirk when he'd seen it around his hook, and God, the thought that Hook knew she had kept it made her uncomfortable. She'd kept it because it was a token of her and Mary Margaret's victory over Cora and Hook, but since the pair had made it to Storybrooke anyways, there was no logical reason as to why it was still in her possession.

She didn't even have time to process the fact that she had parents now, that the man who had sent her to jail was back in her life, that her son's adoptive mother was currently trying to kill Emma's mother, let alone worry about what the hell it really meant that she was keeping Hook's scarf in her desk drawer.

_You know exactly what it means, _said a nasty voice in Emma's head. Instantly, the walls that had been slowly cracking ever since her emotional reaction to seeing the pictures on David's desk sealed over like jail bars. Emma dropped the scarf onto her desk like it was suddenly on fire.

She stomped away from her desk, with the hand and scarf out on the table top, mocking her. It was just a scarf, she reminded herself firmly, as she tidied up the station, purposely avoiding going near her office. _Just a scarf_. She'd kept it only because Hook had been right about her: she would make a great pirate and pirates keep souvenirs. And that was the only reason.

That's what she was going with, anyways.

But, roughly an hour and a half later, once things were finally in order and Emma was just about to leave the station, she paused by her office. She stood there for several moments, at war with herself, and then strode up to the desk. She swiped both of Hook's possessions into the drawer, kicked it closed with her boot, and walked away before she could change her mind.

* * *

After Tamara finally unshackled Hook from the basement room, she led him out onto the busy streets of New York City. The people outside didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary with a man dressed as though he should've been headed to a comic book expo, and they breezed past Tamara and Hook, sparing them little to no strange looks.

Hook turned left, immediately heading back to the harbour where he'd anchored the _Jolly Roger_. The city was hell to navigate, but he'd managed to memorize the route back to the wharf on his way over to the apartment complex. There was no way he'd leave the _Roger _in some strange land where he couldn't find it again; that was a mistake he wasn't going to make again.

"Oh, silly me," Tamara called out, her voice teetering on the edge of laughter. "Did I forget to mention that your ship's gone?"

Hook froze mid-step, and then whirled around, nearly barrelling into some passing pedestrians as he did so, which finally induced some strange and annoyed looks. He shoved past them, and snarled at Tamara, "_What_?"

"They needed a quick ride back to Storybrooke," she explained, a smile ghosting over her features, "and your ship is faster than any taxi or bus." Her smile widening at Hook's thunderstruck expression, she started down the busy street in the opposite direction, gesturing for him to follow.

He stared after her for a few moments, the image in his head of Rumpelstiltskin on the _Jolly Roger_ making the bile rise in his throat. His rage that Rumpelstiltskin had survived hadn't cooled, and now it burned through him like a fire. How … how dare the crocodile even _think_ about stealing Hook's ship, the ship where Hook had lost his hand, where the monster had murdered Milah? The _Jolly Roger _was Hook's home, and Rumpelstiltskin on it … Hook set his jaw, and swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. Oh, how he was going to like cutting the crocodile's throat once the magic was gone from Storybrooke.

"How the hell do any of them even know how to captain a ship?" he demanded from Tamara, sidestepping the pedestrians to catch up to her. "The _Jolly Roger _–"

She laughed over her shoulder. "You're not the brightest, are you?"

Hook bristled, speeding up slightly to match her quick stride. "What are you on about?"

"Remember how I said my fiancé had called, telling me he wanted me to meet his father?"

Hook raised an eyebrow; the crocodile only had one son, as far as he knew, and in his instantaneous rage at Tamara's announcement of Rumpelstiltskin's survival, he hadn't put the puzzle pieces together then.

"Baelfire is your fiancé?"

And, if that was the case, well, then, of course, bloody _Baelfire_ would know how to sail the ship. Sometimes Hook really regretted ever speaking to that boy when he'd first seen him in Neverland all those years ago.

Tamara nodded, and held up her left hand for Hook to admire the shiny diamond ring on her fourth finger. "In this world, he goes by Neal, but I suppose _you_ would know him as Baelfire. After all, that is the name his _mother _gave him."

The mention of Milah, so callously and casually, from Tamara's mouth, flared the rage in Hook again, and he gritted his teeth together. He let it slide _– this time –_ in response to the news that Milah's son had made it to this world. From the times they'd interacted in Neverland, Hook knew that Baelfire had always been yearning for the 'land without magic' but Hook didn't realize that the world Bae had been seeking was the same one Regina had sent all the people of the Enchanted Forest to. "He made it here?"

Tamara flashed a dazzling smile to Hook as confirmation, and then titled her head to the left. "Come on. This is our way to Storybrooke."

She had stopped in front of one of those strange carriages that this world was so fond of. Hook eyed it warily. Sure, he knew what they were – he had gotten hit and sent to a hospital by one, after all – but the idea of actually getting into one of the monsters wasn't so appealing.

"Not as impressive as your ship," Tamara said, walking around to the other side of the beast to open up her door. "But, it'll get us there just the same."

Still cautious, Hook stood outside the car and stared at it for a few more moments. To his immense surprise, the dark glass window on one of the doors started to roll away and Tamara leaned over to stick her head out the now empty frame. "Coming?"

Cursing this world under his breath, Hook followed Tamara's lead and got into the car. The seats inside were similar to carriages, even made of leather and all, but that was pretty much where the similarities ended.

"What's all this?" Hook asked, gesturing with his stumped hand to the dashboard, where there were knobs and buttons and a glowing clock and a strange screen that showed the map of the streets around them. He leant forward, examining the little map. Huh. It was very interesting, and wasn't like the maps Hook was used to, which were, of course, hand drawn and on paper. This one was glowing back at him with some unnatural light, and his suspicion of this world deepened.

Tamara was laughing at him. "This world does take a little while to get used to," she said, turning the key in the ignition of the car, its engine roaring. Hook's eyes widened slightly, and he looked up in alarm from the strange map as Tamara turned the wheel, moving the car away from the curb and into the streets with the many other similar vehicles. Hook stiffened, grabbing onto the door handle for security as she accelerated, and holding it tightly.

"Oh relax," Tamara said, noting his rigid posture. "I promise I'm a safe driver." Her eyes danced with amusement, and Hook felt like he was being teased. He scowled, and leaned back, trying to relax. His gaze fell on the map again, and he jolted forward in surprise.

"This map moves!"

Tamara laughed again. "It's called a GPS."

"I thought there was no magic in this realm!" Hook exclaimed, peering at the map closer. No matter what rage still filled him at the thought of Rumpelstiltskin alive and on his ship, Hook was still a pirate and was amused easily by precious objects. And this was certainly a precious object. It was bloody fantastic, the way the little map seemed to move in time with their car, navigating through the streets of the busy city like it knew exactly where they were.

"It's not magic. It gets our location from satellites in space," Tamara explained, turning the car down a busy street. To Hook's delight, the GPS map followed their turn exactly.

"I need one of these," he said, in awe. Navigating would be so much simpler with something like this! He paused then, thinking. His brow furrowed. "What are satellites?"

Tamara sighed dramatically, and didn't answer him. Hook frowned at her, and they drove in silence for a while. Hook went back to staring at the GPS, barely looking as New York sped by. Cities and their structure and order had always bored him, and even the fantastical nature of New York City couldn't hold his interest for too long.

Likewise, while the GPS was certainly fascinating, Hook's mind drifted back to Rumpelstiltskin as it always did. Distractions were great fun for a while, but Hook had been consumed with the lust for revenge on the crocodile for hundreds of years and any entertainment he had never lasted long.

The thought that Rumpelstiltskin was still alive nearly made Hook's vision burry with anger. How unfair was the world? Milah had been dead for going on four hundred years, and yet her murderer still walked free. No matter what Hook did, no matter where he went, no matter who he aligned with, the crocodile escaped his fate every damn time. Where was the justice in that? Who had Hook wronged so badly that the universe found it fair to let his revenge sit, unfilled and festering for so long?

A terribly familiar voice spoke in his mind then, the voice of an old friend he'd long since forgotten. _You know_.

Hook clenched his hand into a tight fist, and practically snarled out loud. If the universe was punishing him for what he'd done in Neverland, then doing it through this way was terribly cruel. Punishing him for something he did so long ago, something that Milah had had no part in, was the highest form of injustice Hook thought he could imagine.

He glanced out the window to calm himself down before he punched something and ended up with more injuries than he already had. That, unfortunately, did not work, as the car was hurling down the long freeway at a tremendous speed, other cars and trees flashing by so quickly Hook thought for a moment he was back in that damned city with the flashing pictures he'd seen in one terrifying large city square. The quick movements made him feel sick, and his head was starting to pound again, so he looked back into the relatively immobile movements of the car.

Tamara was focused on the road, but she still managed to see Hook rubbing his head. "Carsick?" she asked, her voice entirely too sweet.

"Har-har," he muttered, massaging his temples with his good hand. "You're hilarious."

"That is one of my many talents."

Her offhand remark struck Hook funny, and he looked over to her, his curiosity peaking again. The familiarity of everything about her was driving him absolutely bonkers; here was something so familiar about her, but it seemed to be just out of Hook's reach as to what exactly it was. If only he could recognize her as easily as he recognized that damned voice in his head from long ago.

"So," he started, and she sighed, awaiting his question. "Let me see if I understand this correctly … you, lass, are the only woman in this world who seems to know anything about magic, and you just so happen to be engaged to the son of Rumpelstiltskin?"

A small smile quirked up one corner of her mouth. "Funny how things work out like that."

"Funny indeed," he said softly, his mind whirring as he added this slice of information to the growing collection on Tamara. "The last time I saw Baelfire, he was fourteen." He smirked. "Didn't take you for one of _those_ women."

Tamara shot him an irritated look. "He grew up, you idiot. He even has his own son now. Henry." She turned her head look at him, a strange gleam in her eyes. "I believe you know his mother. Emma."

The way Tamara said that simple sentence made Hook shift slightly in his seat; just what exactly was she insinuating? Whatever was going on – oh no, Hook was not going there. Not today, not when Emma had once again abandoned him, not when Rumpelstiltskin had once again escaped death.

No, today was definitely not the day to think about whatever the hell Tamara's implication about that damn blonde woman meant.

Instead, he arched an eyebrow at Tamara, and said, as coolly as he could, "Baelfire, the son of Rumpelstiltskin, is the father of Emma Swan's son?"

Tamara nodded, her eyes twinkling even stronger now. "Like I said, Rumpelstiltskin has a new found family."

_Bloody perfect_, Hook thought, leaning back against his seat, as anger filled him again. Tamara was right; with the knowledge that he was Emma's son's grandfather, Rumpelstiltskin would now have Emma, Snow White, and that dolt of a prince ready to protect him, if only for the boy's sake. No wonder Emma had knocked him out so ferociously when he'd attacked the crocodile; they were _family_ now. The thought of Emma protecting the crocodile, protecting the man who had ruined Hook's entire life inexplicably made him very, very angry.

Thinking of Emma … Hook pondered if Baelfire was the reason she was so closed off and broken. She had a son, and he had taken it that his father had been the one to so severely damage her. The little boy Hook had known had had a lot of Milah in him but apparently a lot of the cowardly Rumpelstiltskin, too. If he was the reason that Emma was as guarded as a fortress, then Hook felt very little empathy for the boy he had once known.

_A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets_, Hook recalled, wryly. Hook had always tried to live by that code, but it seemed Baelfire hadn't, just like his father before him.

Bae had had so much promise in Neverland, but alas, he truly was the crocodile's son after all. Hook shook his head, sadly, as he thought of how terribly disappointed Milah would be in her son. She had always regretted leaving him behind, and had hoped that he would grow up to be brave and strong.

What a pity that she was so wrong.

* * *

_Five days. _

_Five, torturous, terrible days._

_It had been five days since Baelfire had gone through the Blue Fairy's portal into the land without magic, five days since he'd been abandoned to a world where he knew nothing and no one, five days since his father had chosen power over his own son._

_In those five days, he'd discovered that land without magic he'd been promised was a dreary, rainy city called London. It was the depths of winter when he arrived, and to add to that dreariness, apparently the country's queen had just died. There were more people in this one city than he had ever seen in his whole life and more people were expected to flood the capital in the coming days for the queen's funeral._

_The death of a queen might've softened some people's hearts, but not most of the ones Baelfire had encountered. In the few days since he'd arrived, he'd learned more than he ever had before. He'd learned the people here, even without the temptation of magic, were just as cruel and heartless as they were at home. The people here had no mercy for starving little boys, and Baelfire learned to avoid the loud taverns and suspicious alleys late at night. He'd learned that stealing a small bite of bread and an apple to eat would result in a night in a terrifying jail, and that once you told people you had no parents, they would ship you off to an orphanage where the food was cold, the floors just as icy, and where neglect hung in the air like fog._

_And, in that orphanage, where Bae found himself on that cold fifth night, Bae learned that the true tragedy of loss was that he was not the only one who felt it. _

_He'd been fed a meager dinner in a large room with about fifty other children, all who eyed him curiously and wearily. No one had approached him since he'd arrived, and Bae didn't blame them. Another mouth to feed, he could hear them thinking, as he slurped up the disgusting soup he'd been told was 'supper.' He was just another face in this realm, another unknown orphan who the world didn't care about._

_The matron of the orphanage, a thin, cranky woman, with the thickest accent Bae had ever heard, had been none too happy to take in another orphan. The guard who'd accompanied him from the jail had spoken to her angrily, tossed a silver coin at her, and invoked the memory of the queen for her charity, before she'd acquiesced.__  
_

_That first night in the orphanage, in the pathetic bed that he'd been given, Bae hugged the thin blanket towards himself as he tried to get comfortable enough to sleep. Even in their terrible poverty in the Enchanted Forest, Bae had always had a warm blanket, or there had been at least a roaring fireplace where he could warm himself. Here, there was nothing but cold food, icy stone floors, and, worst of all, no papa. _

What a great way to start off a new life, _Bae thought sadly. He shouldn't be here; he should be with his papa in a warm cabin, drinking hot tea, and downing hot soup. _This was not how it was supposed to be.

_He wondered briefly what his papa was doing now, if he felt bad at all for what he'd done to his son, or if the power had so corrupted him that he was thankful that Bae had gone through the portal alone. At the thought that Rumpelstiltskin would be happy that Bae was gone, that there would be no distractions from his power now, Bae felt like he'd been punched in the chest._

_Before he could lose himself in the pain of loss again, a dark haired girl flopped down beside Bae on the thin bed, jolting him from his thoughts. She looked to be a few years younger than him, and two even younger boys hovered behind her, one with large, round glasses, the other peeking out from behind a ragged doll at Baelfire with wide eyes. Several of the other children gathered around his bed too, forming a semi-circle of curious eyes. They were all dressed in rags like he was, blankets wrapped around them as if they could ward away the loneliness Bae knew they must all feel._

"_You're new here," the girl said, matter-of-factly, in that thick English accent Bae found hard to understand. Hers was even worse than the matron's and it took Bae a few moments to understand what she'd said. _

"_Yes," he whispered finally. His voice was hoarse with disuse, and he cleared his throat. "I've got no parents, so the soldiers sent me here."_

"_That's how James ended up here too," the girl said, nodding back to one of the many boys in the crowd behind her. A tall, dark haired boy nodded at Bae, and Bae tentatively smiled at him. _

"_Them soldiers don't like us orphans running around, nicking bread and apples," the girl continued. Bae started, slightly surprised that she knew what he'd stolen, but she grinned, showing crooked teeth. "The soldier who brought you here – he's married to the matron's sister. He told us about you after you'd arrived."_

"_You're lucky he's the one to find you," another boy said, from the crowd. "If it was any of the other soldiers …" he trailed off, staring into the distance, as others hugged themselves tighter and looked away from Baelfire. Bae thought of what horror they'd experienced at the hands of the other soldiers, and he shuddered. He knew the cruelty of soldiers first hand. _

"_So … so, you're all orphans?" he asked, unable to stop himself . Maybe some of them had lost parents the way he had too, maybe he wasn't the only who one who had been abandoned._

"_We're all orphans in here," said a boy from the crowd, a small, scruffy blond. "In one way or another." The others nodded, all shifting on their heels at the thoughts of their long gone parents. Bae looked around them, feeling his grief and loss echoed in all of their faces. Lost boys and girls, just like him. Perhaps … perhaps, even though Baelfire was alone, here, among all the others who had lost so much, he might finally be able to fit in. He'd never had that in the Enchanted Forest, not since his papa had become the Dark One, and even before that, when Rumpelstiltskin had just been the cowardly single father whose wife had been killed by pirates. Here, though … well, Baelfire had lost his entire family, but maybe he could find a new one amongst the crowded orphans. _

"_What's your name?" the dark haired girl inquired then, blinking her dark green eyes at him several times. _

"_Ba-Baelfire," he said, "But I go by Bae." _

"_Bae," the girl repeated, nodding to herself. "I like that name; it's different." She stuck out her grimy hand, and Bae took it hesitantly. "Nice to meet you, Bae. These are my brothers, Michael and John –"she jerked her head to the boys behind her "– and I'm Wendy."_

* * *

A/N: The whole Bae meets Wendy in an orphanage was inspired by onceuponamirror's theories on tumblr (and the set photos that set off her theories). I'm trying to use as much of canon as I can, so since the theory is perfect, I went with it; thank you for the inspiration!

And, hey you, my beloved reader, how about a review? Let me know what you're thinking so far, I'd love to hear from you! xoxo


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Sorry for the long update time; I just had to start this story right during university final exams, didn't I? Since though, now I am free, the updates should be quicker. We meet a character I've been dying for in this chapter; hope you all enjoy!

I originally wrote this chapter, but then I watched 2x20 and the promo, and died, and so had to include some aspects from that, which is why it's a little later than I would've intended otherwise.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time, nor any of the other Disney (or otherwise) related characters that may or may not appear. Everything you recognize belongs to their respective owners; I'm just playing around with them.

_Chapter Three_

After hours and hours of driving, Hook and Tamara had nearly reached Storybrooke. They'd stopped overnight in some sleazy (by even Hook's standards) inn, each with their own separate room. Hook had spent a few minutes fighting with the damned "television remote" before giving up and just settling into bed. It was lumpy and uncomfortable, and he since he had no change of clothes, the scratchy sheets itched his bare skin everywhere.

When he'd finally managed to drift off to sleep, his dreams had been horrid. He saw himself plunging the hook into the crocodile's chest, but the coward had just laughed at him, the high, psychotic laugh twisting and turning into Milah's final gasp of life from when Rumpelstiltskin had crushed her heart. Hook had seen himself yell in terror, trapped in some strange place where he watched himself run to catch Milah's falling body. She had whispered 'I love you', and then she had died, repeating history, in Hook's arms. He was powerless to stop it, just like then, only this time, he and his pursuit of revenge were the cause of her demise.

He'd been trapped in a constant repeat of the nightmare, paralyzed as he watched Milah die over and over, until finally Tamara's incessant knocking on the door had roused him. He'd been terribly disoriented when he woke up, and it'd taken him a few minutes to find enough clothing to cover himself before opening the door. She had rolled her eyes at him, and snapped at him to be ready to leave in twenty minutes before departing herself.

The trip from the hotel to Storybrooke had been long, and Hook was positively starving by the time they got back to the town. Tamara had refused to let Hook eat breakfast in the dining room that morning, citing the strange looks they'd already gotten at Hook's clothing the night before. Luckily, though, Tamara had brought along a sack of this strange bread she called "bagels" and Hook had managed to wrangle one out of the bag before she'd noticed and snatched the bag away from him.

Tamara was currently talking on her cellphone to Baelfire – _Neal_, Hook corrected mentally – and Hook had been told his life wasn't worth living if he spoke while the conversation was going on. "Well, you know how I had some of my stuff at your place," she was saying, "I went to check on the … _problem_ …" she eyed Hook, and he rolled his eyes. "And he was gone. I don't know when he got out, or where he went, but he was gone by the time I got there."

The response was muffled to that, and the conversation shifted away from Hook. Bored, he went back to staring at the GPS he was so fascinated with. He was honestly considering ripping it out of the dashboard to take with him back onto his ship – it would've made the trip to New York much smoother – when, all of a sudden, the screen suddenly flickered and went black. He glanced out the windshield and saw a "Welcome to Storybrooke" sign flash by from the corner of his eye.

"Damn magic," he muttered, forgetting Tamara's warning about speaking.

Thankfully, she had ended the conversation and was smirking at the blank GPS screen herself, that same, strangely familiar, electricity dancing in her eyes. "Welcome to Storybrooke, indeed."

Tamara drove slowly into the town, leaning forwards over the steering wheel, her hungry gaze taking in everything. Even though the car's windows were tinted dark black and Hook knew the townsfolk couldn't see him or Tamara inside it, she immediately turned down a back road to draw less attention. Hook had explored Storybrooke after he and Cora had arrived, and gotten quite a good sense of the little town, but had no idea where this road was taking them.

"Where are we headed?"

"The docks."

"The – to my ship?" Hook asked, brightening at the thought of being aboard the _Jolly Roger _again.

"No," Tamara said, and Hook's heart dropped. "There's a storage locker right behind the docks."

"A storage locker?" he echoed. "What's in there?"

"There's nothing in there," she said, turning the car down the road one block before the actual harbour, blocking it from Hook's view. The _Jolly Roger_ had lost its invisibility enchantment once it left Storybrooke's boundaries when he sailed to Manhattan, and Hook had been hopeful he'd get a glimpse of it, but of course, no such luck. He shot Tamara an irritated look, but she wasn't looking at him. She stopped the car just outside the small roadway where Hook had tried to summon Cora with the queen of hearts card several days ago, and then finally turned to look at him. "Or rather, I should say there's nothing in there _yet_."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Then why –"

"For now," she interrupted, "it's just a safe place for you to stay until I learn more about Storybrooke. There's food, water, a bed, everything you'll need."

"There's all that on my ship," Hook said, jerking his head towards the harbour. "I can just as easily remain there for several days –"

Tamara clucked her tongue, and retrieved her purse from the backseat. "Don't be silly, Captain. I have no doubt that someone in this town of heroes will be watching your ship just in case you do just that, and we can't have you be seen in Storybrooke the very day that I arrive, can we?"

Mutinous, but knowing it to be true, Hook reluctantly remained silent, and stared moodily out the window to the rows of storage lockers out the window. "You seem to know quite a lot about this town, lass," he said, still looking out the window. "Much more so than I thought."

"I have a source," Tamara responded easily, an eerie leer creeping into her voice. "He's kept me up to date with things so far."

He looked back, and waited for Tamara to continue, but she fell silent and began rummaging through her purse, so he pressed, "And who is this mysterious source of yours?"

She smiled condescendingly down at him. "As of right now, who he is doesn't concern you, Captain."

"Quite the team player, aren't you, lass?" Hook snapped, irritated at being kept in the dark. "If I'm to aid you in your quest to steal the magic, shouldn't I at least know who else you're working with?"

She didn't answer for a few moments, and then shrugged. "You will, eventually." She flicked her eyes to his and smiled. "Once you've actually proven yourself a worthy ally, you'll learn all my secrets."

_Brilliant_, Hook thought darkly, leaning back against the car seat. He didn't say anything more, and Tamara continued to search through her purse for something. Finally, she drew out a small key and dangled it in front of him. "It's number 1904." Hook took it from her, flicking it between his fingers, and she continued, "Neal is staying at the bed and breakfast, and wants me to come meet him, his son, and Emma there."

Hook put on his best wounded face. "I wasn't invited?"

Tamara ignored the quip and pulled something else from her purse. It was black, and slightly larger than her hand, and she admired it for a few moments, before pressing a button on the side. Bright white sparks of electricity suddenly burst between two slightly elongated ends and Hook gaped at the sight, pressing himself against the door of the car in surprise.

"What the bloody hell is that?"

She smirked at him. "One of my secrets. This little taser is how I'm going to get the magic from Storybrooke."

* * *

Emma had nearly had it with this week. Just when she thought her life couldn't get any crazier than it already was, what with Neal turning out to be Rumpelstiltskin's long lost son, her mother committing murder and then becoming catatonic over it, Emma's already fragile walls deciding to fracture at a freaking picture of her parents on a desk, and the fact that she was keeping Hook's scarf in her desk drawer, which only baffled and confused her, now she was going to meet Neal's fiancée.

Even though the thought of meeting Tamara, of _really _meeting her (Emma didn't really count their five seconds together in New York) had Emma on edge and about to chug a whole bottle of whiskey, she was going to do it. For Neal's sake, and for Henry's too. Tamara seemed nice enough, and Neal really seemed to love her. They were engaged, after all, and Emma was happy that Neal had found someone like Tamara – sweet, honest, caring. She was totally happy for them.

Totally.

Really.

No, really, she was.

Completely.

Wasn't she?

Alright, alright. So, maybe she was a little hurt that Neal had gotten engaged. Maybe she was a little hurt that he had moved on, while she had never gotten the closure she needed to fully do that herself. She'd had to go to jail because of him, had to give up their son because of what he'd done to her. Selfishly, she wished he was just as hurt as she was. Emma had put up walls, broken by Neal's betrayal, and even with Graham, before his death, she had held herself back until it was too late. Seeing Neal, when she thought she never would again, and seeing that he was happy, that he had someone he loved, that someone loved him … well, alright, dammit, it hurt. It hurt like a bitch.

She had _never_ wanted to see Neal again, not after what he did to her. The first few nights in that cold Arizona jail had been terrible, most possibly the worst days of her life. She'd cried for hours, furious with herself for being so stupid, for believing that she could have had her happy ending, for actually _trusting_ someone. When her eyes burned with no more tears to cry, she'd hardened into glass, and that glass wall had been in place until that fateful night when Henry had shown up at her apartment in Boston.

But, whatever and whoever Neal might be, he was still Henry's father. It was good for him to have Neal here, she rationalized with herself. He hadn't hurt Henry, and that little kid deserved all the happiness in the world. He'd been unhappy ever since he found out what Mary Margaret had done to Cora and Regina: finding out your heroes weren't the people you wanted them to be was a crushing, terrible dose of reality.

Emma glanced at her son; he had returned with coffee for them all from Granny's several minutes ago, and he and Neal were looking at his storybook, both engulfed by one of the stories. It was so normal – Henry and his book – Emma thought wryly, and Henry deserved some sort of normalcy, even if normalcy for this family was the strangest thing Emma had ever experienced in her life. They were probably looking at Neal's own story, Henry making sure that everything the book said was accurate. How weird was it that Neal's childhood was recorded in a storybook, hell, that everyone's lives were in that one small little book? Sometimes, Emma just shook her head at the absurdity of it all.

Henry suddenly looked up from the book, jarring Emma from her thoughts. "Mom," he began. "Neal said that Captain Hook escaped from the basement; you don't think he's going to come back here, do you?"

Emma shot an irritated look at Neal; she thought they'd agreed to keep Hook's escape from Henry until they figured out where he was as there was no need to unnecessarily worry him right away.

Neal just shrugged. "He asked."

Noting on later wringing her ex's neck, Emma went to kneel in front of their son. It hadn't surprised her that Hook had escaped from the basement in Manhattan. She'd knocked him out cold with that umbrella stand, but he was probably so used to it by now that it hadn't fazed him that much. She did wonder how he'd managed to escape – after all, she'd taken his hook – but his being a pirate probably explained that away. No doubt he was used to escaping from situations like this, as he seemed very much like the kind of man who always wound up tied somewhere.

For a fleeting moment, Emma felt regret at leaving him behind in Manhattan, a city – hell_,_ a _world_ – where he knew nothing. She imagined Hook in New York, in Times Square with all the billboards, in front of the Statue of Liberty, dodging the taxicabs and tour buses, his bewildered expression at everything that is so different from the Enchanted Forest, and couldn't help but smirk. Nah, she wasn't sorry she'd left him there. She was just sorry she had missed out on seeing him react to the modern world.

Emma looked into Henry's eyes, focusing on her son and ignoring her amusement at the thought of Hook in New York. "Yes, Henry. He'll be back. If I've learned anything about Captain Hook, it's that he doesn't give up easily, nor take well to not getting what he wants." Neal snorted, and Emma remembered that he and Hook had a history; she'd have to ask about that one day. "You don't have to worry; I won't let him hurt you."

"I'm not worried about me," Henry said, seriously. He glanced at Neal, and then back to his mother. "I'm worried for Mr. Gold. Captain Hook wants to –"

"I'm not going to let him hurt anyone, Henry," Emma interrupted firmly. She squeezed his hand. "I am still the sheriff of this town, and I won't let him hurt anyone in Storybrooke, including Mr. Gold. You can trust me."

Henry smiled slightly, but didn't look completely reassured. "I think we should have a plan."

"A plan?"

"Yeah, like, you know, Operation Cobra," he said. "We could call it Operation Codfish."

Emma blinked at Henry, and then burst into peals of laughter. The thought of the real Captain Hook, the truly lethal and vengeful pirate, shouting out the infamous phrase from the _Peter Pan _movie was a sight Emma wished she could see even more so than his misadventures in New York.

"No, Henry," Emma said, still gasping through chuckles. "No plan this time. Operation Cobra was one thing … but Hook's seriously dangerous; I don't want you anywhere near him." Her tone turned serious. "Do you understand?"

"But –"

"No buts," Neal said, firmly. "Hook's dangerous, Henry. He's ruthless. He wouldn't think twice about hurting you to get to my father. You aren't allowed anywhere near him."

Henry looked from back and forth between Neal and Emma. Obviously, having two parents actually agreeing on something for once wasn't working out as well as he'd hoped. He pouted and crossed his arms. "Fine."

Neal seemed to think the matter was settled, but Emma knew better. "Henry," she said seriously. He looked back to her, guiltily, and she held his gaze firmly. "I'm really serious this time. I don't want you going anywhere near Hook. Leave him to me."

For a moment, Henry looked about to argue, but then he thought better of it and muttered an agreement. He detangled himself from Emma, slouched back over to the sofa, and opened the storybook again, a scowl on his face.

Neal remained at Emma's side, watching her, closely. "Believe he'll keep his word?" he asked quietly.

Emma just rolled her eyes at Neal, and he chortled. Emma continued to watch Henry, her mind racing. Neal noticed, and after a few moments, asked, "What are you thinking?"

Making sure Henry wasn't listening, Emma murmured, "That we're going to need an Operation Codfish for ourselves for when Hook does get back here." She turned to look at him, worry clouding her eyes. No matter what her strange and complicated feelings about Captain Hook were, Neal's mention that he could possibly hurt Henry put her immediately on the anti-Hook team. "You don't really think Hook would hurt Henry to get to Gold, do you?" she asked, anxiously. She didn't think he would, but Neal seemed to know him a lot better than she did.

Neal sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly weary. "The Hook I know wasn't above hurting children, and if he finds out that Henry is Rumpelstiltskin's grandson, I don't know what he'll do. When I knew him …" He trailed off, his eyes far away as he remembered some distant memory, and he shook his head. "Let's just say that this world's version of Neverland got something right: the Lost Boys hate Captain Hook for a reason."

* * *

After he'd being unceremoniously shoved into the locker Tamara had so graciously allocated to him, Hook had become very bored very quickly. He'd devoured the food that had been left for him – some strange, circular bread with a hell of a lot of cheese on it – and collapsed on the small cot pressed up against one of the metal walls, staring up at the ceiling with empty thoughts. The room was chilly, and he held his jacket close to him to keep warm.

There was nothing to do in that locker except think. He'd thought for who knows how long about Tamara's taser, which intrigued him in the fact that she somehow thought using it was going to collect Storybrooke's magic, but couldn't figure the actual thing out. Were they sure there wasn't magic in this realm? First carriages that move of their own accord, flashing signs in New York City, the GPS, now a device that shoots electricity …

Hook seriously did not understand this world. At all.

He'd been in the locker for several hours and he was getting more and more restless. Stranded here was not how Hook imagined he would be spending his days after the trip to New York. He'd thought about abandoning Tamara when she'd gotten him back to Storybrooke, but had decided against it on the journey. For now, she was his best bet at finally killing the crocodile once and for all.

In the hours he'd been there, to avoid his increasingly dark thoughts about Rumpelstiltskin and his failure yet again, Hook had drawn all the shapes he could possibly find in the ceiling. It was a trick he faintly remembered using to try to fall asleep from his long ago youth, but the cold and lingering hunger kept him miserably awake.

Bored, his gaze shifted to his stumped left arm. Phantom pains had faded many years ago, and the hook had become something so integral to Hook that he felt hollow without it. It had been with him for as long as the thirst for revenge, it was a constant reminder of everything that had been taken from him, it was what made him Captain Hook, the chilling nightmare, not just Captain Jones, the swashbuckling pirate. Killian Jones had died with Milah, and Hook had replaced him as easily as the hook had replaced Jones's hand.

Turning his arm slightly to look more closely at the stump, he wondered briefly what this world knew of Captain Hook. Emma was not from the Enchanted Forest, but still she had recognized his name when she and her trio of princesses had tied him to the tree.

He snorted at the thought of Emma, and glanced back to his arm. He imagined that she had probably locked his hook in the sheriff's station again, so he'd have to break in once more to retrieve it. He smirked to himself, as a new thought appeared to him. Maybe this time he'd take his scarf she'd kept in her desk too.

When he'd seen it there, he'd been momentarily taken aback, but had shoved that emotion aside as he spotted the silver curve of his hook. There had been more important thoughts to him then, but now, alone in the freezing cold storage shed, he was free to think about it.

Hook thought he was pretty good at reading people, but he still hadn't expected to see the scarf he'd used at the giant's castle in Emma Swan's desk drawer. She was, in some ways, an open book to him, like he'd said to her on the beanstalk, but other times she was infuriatingly hard to read. He honestly hadn't expected her to abandon him on the beanstalk, but that was probably just his over-inflated ego blinding him from the truth about Emma's serious trust issues. Just add it to the list of times Hook had irrationally trusted anyone, he thought darkly. When she'd left him up there for those agonizing ten hours, he knew he'd been foolish to think that anyone as broken as Emma was going to trust someone like him. He was the exact opposite of a trustworthy person: a pirate, a murderer, a liar, a thief. No wonder she had so continuously abandoned him, knocked him out, and stolen his hook from him –

Speaking of foolish times he had trusted people, Hook sat up from the cot in one fell swoop, grimacing slightly at the pain that still lingered in his ribs. Was he seriously lying about in a storage locker, when he could be out there retrieving his hook? Had all the times he'd been knocked out finally done some lasting damage to his head?

Too bad for Tamara's whole 'stay out of the way' plan, he thought, as he exited the locker, pulling his jacket closer around himself in the cool chill of Storybrooke. God knows Tamara was up to something, and while she could definitely help him out with Rumpelstiltskin, she was not the boss of Captain Hook. He was not going to stay in that damn storage locker when he could be out there getting his hook. Hopefully, he'd be able to get it and return before Tamara even noticed he was gone, as he imagined she would not like it too much if he was out and about when she'd specifically told him not to, but if he didn't? Well, Hook supposed he'd have to deal with that when it came up. And, when he did, at least he'd have his hook with him.

He walked towards the sheriff's station, careful to keep his route to the back alleys of the small town that he had learned in his first few days here with Cora. After several minutes (and a close call near a store that proclaimed "Storybrooke Pharmacy") he spotted the station looming from down the street. There were no cars parked outside, meaning it was most likely empty. He grinned, quickening his pace. If he couldn't get his revenge right away, at least he'd be able to get the one thing that had been with him for just as long.

* * *

_Heavy beams of sunlight beat down on Hook as he strode up to the crystalline waters of the Mermaid Lagoon. The lagoon stretched out for a great distance in front of Hook, shadowy caves and a sheer cliff wall looming from across the way. A towering rock formation at least the size of Hook's ship was at the direct centre of the pond, and stretched out into the Lagoon below like an iceberg._

_As he got closer to the lagoon, Hook tugged slightly at his collar, muttering about the unfortunate consequences of leather and heat. His gaze fell on the water, the sun's reflection off of it nearly blinding. The Lagoon was a deceivingly deep pool of startling water so blue that Hook was sorely tempted to cool off within, but the deception of the Lagoon was nearly as tantalizing as the mermaids who lived under the glittering surface._

_Speaking of … two of said mermaids were currently sunbathing on a large stone near the pool's edge, their astonishingly coloured tails flicking back and forth in the humid air as they giggled about something or other. He came closer, and spotted another two lounging beside the rock in the water itself. Hook recognized them all by appearance – after all, they didn't age in Neverland either – but only knew one of their names: the redhead innocently lying on the sunbathing stone, her emerald tail waving lazily through the air._

"_You're going to get a sunburn with that ginger hair of yours," he called as he approached their rock. At his voice, the mermaids all jumped in surprise, and whirled around to stare at him, the two on the sunbathing rock sitting straight up. He smirked at their astonished expressions, and flopped down beside their sunbathing stone. He locked eyes with the redheaded mermaid, whose own eyes were as blue as the waters, and grinned. "Hello, Ariel."_

_She stared at him for several minutes, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head. "You're back," she said, finally, her voice somewhat strangled. _

"_Aye." He watched her closely, gauging her reaction. He and Ariel had a long_ _history, to say the least, and he was interested and almost worried to see what her reaction was to him. The last time he'd seen this little mermaid had been nearly two decades ago, and both of them had thought they would never see each other again. She had been the elder one then, her appearance roughly like that of a human young woman, but now Hook was the old one. _

_Her face remained in a state of shock for several moments. Her eyes flickered down his body, and then back up to his face. "And you grew up." _

"_Nicely," one of the ones from the water one added, giggling and flicking her tail against the water to splash Hook. The other two nodded enthusiastically, and Hook chuckled. So not everything in Neverland had changed, then._

_Ariel shot an annoyed look to the others, and jerked her head to the side. She said something to them in in that sing-song siren language Hook had never learned, and grumbling, they slunk away into the warm Lagoon water. One winked at Hook before she disappeared beneath the surface, and Hook smirked._

_Ariel looked back to Hook, her eyes narrowing. She opened her mouth, like she was going to yell at him, but then her gaze found the hook on his left arm and she gasped in horror. "What the hell happened to you?" she shrieked, reaching down and grabbing his arm. She twisted his arm towards herself, making Hook wince: his arm was still recovering from the trauma of losing his hand and any sudden movement would still jar the wound. Her hands were cold and slimy where they touched Hook's bare skin, and he gently pried his arm from her grip. _

"_Like you said, I grew up," he said, his echo of her words hollow and dry. _

_Ariel's eyes filled with sadness and pity, and she shook her head. "Growing up is treacherous business, indeed," she whispered. _

"_Indeed." _

_Ariel's eyes lifted from his hook, and then narrowed. "But you came back." Her voice changed, became cold and distant. "Why?"_

_He sighed. "Things changed. I have use of Neverland again."_

"_Use of it," she said, hollowly, falling slightly away from him. "You have use of it again. After all this time, that's all you can say? You were gone for years, and you have 'use of Neverland' again?"_

"_Yes," he said, growing irritated. The moment he'd returned to this land, he'd gotten an earful from an annoying little friend that he'd nearly forgotten, and he didn't need that from Ariel now. He'd hoped she'd be more receptive to seeing him again, but apparently she, like the rest of this bloody island, was still angry. "I didn't need Neverland before, but now I do."_

_She made a noise of disgust. "Load of good growing up did you. You had such high hopes, but I can see that you've become what I told you would." She leaned forward and hissed, "You're just like them, the other humans."_

_He clicked his tongue at her. "You wound me, Ariel. Is that any way to treat an old friend? I came all this way to visit you and you treat me so coldly. You've started to remind me of your dear old father."_

_She ignored him and narrowed her eyes at him. "Why _are_ you here?"_

"_Isn't it obvious? I need your help."_

_Ariel stared at Hook for a few moments, her eyes flickering down to his side, and then revelation hit her. "You want me to help you find your shadow."_

_Hook nodded, delighted that she was still as clever as she'd always been. "Yes, that … have you seen it recently? I think it's been avoiding me." He frowned, mockingly petulant, and she snorted._

"_Oh, I've seen it. Always darting around, pestering my sisters and I."_

_Hook grinned fondly. "See, there are still parts of me here in Neverland." He leaned towards her and said, "Will you help me find it?"_

_She eyed him suspiciously. "What do you want with it?"_

"_It's mine," Hook said, exasperated. "What's wrong with wanting it back?" She still looked suspicious, so Hook continued, "It's not for any dark purpose, Ariel. I've just missed the damn thing."_

_She raised a slender eyebrow at him. __"And why would I help you? After all you did?"_

"_Well, I do believe you don't have to deal with our old friend the sea witch anymore thanks to me."_

_Ariel growled, a guttural sound that reminded Hook she was truly a dangerous creature, and he leaned slightly away. "That's rather low of you," she said, through tight lips. Her blue eyes shone with disgust. "You are not the same as you once were."_

_Hook looked down at his namesake, glittering in the sunlight. "No, no I am not," he said, with a mirthless chuckle. "They call me Hook now," he added. "Another new name; I find this one rather fitting, don't you?"_

_Her eyes flickered with a slight sadness, but it faded as quickly as it came. "Quite." She fell silent for a moment, chewing on her lip as she thought. Finally, she said, "Fine, I'll help you find your bloody shadow, but that's it."_

_He smiled. "Thank you, Ariel."_

_She looked away from him, gazing out across the Lagoon towards the caves. "Why come to me? Your boys refuse you? Do they even know you're back?" _

_Hook tensed at the mention of his former friends. "Aye, they know. They were none too pleased to see me, but they know. They're actually running a little … errand for me right now." _

_She shifted a bit in curiosity, but her gaze remained firmly on the caves. "What kind of errand?" _

_Hook grinned impishly. "The usual type."_

_She sighed, and rolled dramatically off the rock into the water. She resurfaced, blinking water out of her eyes. Resting her head on crossed arms on the edge of the Lagoon, she said, "I'd have thought you'd grown tired of that game, _Hook_."_

"_I did," he said, leaning lazily against the rock so that he was only a few inches higher than her. "But this is a special circumstance. They've gone to fetch the one person who may be able to help me get revenge for this." He held up his hook; sunlight glinted off of it, sending reflective rays through the crystal clear water of the Lagoon._

"_Revenge," she whispered, her gaze transfixed on the glittering hook. Her eyes flickered to him, and he frowned at the expression in her eyes. "You have lost much indeed."_

_Hook opened his mouth to retort, but a sudden voice interrupted him. "Ahem." _

_Hook and Ariel simultaneously looked over to the forest's edge, where the voice had come from. A crowd of grubby boys were watching Hook and Ariel, their arms crossed and scowls on their faces. Each had a myriad of mismatched weapons and other useful items, like pots and pans, slung over their backs. All wore plain, brown clothing, with smears of dirt and leaves tucked into their belts._

"_Ah, you're back, are you?" Hook said, not moving from his lounging position. "Took you long enough." _

_The tallest of the boys, who Hook recognized from long ago as Slightly, stepped forward, his eyes cold. "He wasn't the easiest to locate. We had to search all over the world to find him."_

_Hook smirked. "But I take it you did?" _

_Slightly nodded, his jaw clenching. "He was in your city."_

_That surprised Hook. "Really? How … peculiar." Hook hadn't thought of his home in a long time, in fact he hardly even remembered it. He brushed the thoughts of the impressive city that had once been his home aside, and peered at the Lost Boys. Some he recognized, others were newcomers, but all looked at him like they took his abandonment personally. _

"_Where is he?" Hook asked, as soon as he figured out the boy he was looking for wasn't among the ones in front of him._

"_At the clubhouse," Slightly said. He paused, and added, "We brought more than him back though. He refused to come with us unless they all came too."_

_Hook shrugged; there could be a thousand new Lost Boys, and he'd still not give a damn. "Good for you lot, you'll have lots of company. All I care about is the boy." He stood up, Ariel slipping away under the waves with a warning look to Hook as she did._

_He ignored her, and locked eyes with Slightly. "Take me to him."_


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: This chapter deals with a time skip, as we already know what happens with Emma during 2x18, so I hope it makes some sense. And, as of the events of the finale, this story is totally AU! Sorry for the long update time, hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four

_Hook trailed behind the boys at a safe distance, slashing at a tree branch that moved to block his path with his hook. The tree branch recoiled instantly, and Hook swore he heard it hiss at him like a snake as he moved past it._

Bloody hell_, he thought darkly. He could've taken the route to the clubhouse that had once been his home by himself, but he had hoped being accompanied by the Lost Boys would make the island a little more agreeable to him and hasten the trip. But, to his annoyance as he ducked under a vine slithering out to grab, and no doubt choke, him, it did not. _

"_When did all this start?" Hook called out to the boys, hacking at the vines angrily. Slightly, at the head of the pack, turned, scowled at him, and then continued on his way. "Well alright then," Hook muttered, irritated, as he cut away at a few more vines and stepped over a precarious tree root._

_Thankfully, it was only a few more minutes before, all at once, the thick, Never Wood gave way and Hook was standing in the clearing where he had spent countless years as a youth. _

_It looked exactly the same; the circular expanse of bright green grass, blowing gently in the warm breeze. A tall wooden structure in the middle served as the home of the Lost Boys and stood guard like a watchtower over the area. Hook felt an odd pang in his chest at the sight of what had once been his home, but as he noticed Slightly watching him with those unwaveringly cold eyes, quickly squashed the feeling and turned his own heart and eyes cold._

"_Fetch him."_

_The boys scattered; some fled into the clubhouse sanctuary with Slightly, but others slipped back into the forest, leaving Hook entirely alone in the clearing. He stared around him, remembering the last time he'd stood here when he had been much younger. It had been a very cold day, with the usual jungle heat that pressed in from all sides notably absent. The island had already been angry with him, sensing what he was about to do, and when Neverland was angry with you, you were in deep trouble. _

_Hook wondered briefly if the part of him he'd left behind was somewhere here, lurking in the shadows where it belonged. Probably not, he thought, his eyes scanning the dark edges of the forest but seeing nothing of any use. The dratted thing had always wanted to escape, so it was no doubt hiding from him lest he try to have it reattached again._

"_Here, this is the _man_ who wants to see you." _

_Hook broke free from his memories to look back to the clubhouse. A small crowd had formed at the entrance, but Hook's eyes immediately fell onto a lanky, brunet boy. For a moment, Hook didn't move. The boy was staring at him with an apprehensive expression on his face, so reminiscent of his cowardly father's, but his eyes were green – Milah's green. _

_A shrill voice interrupted his thoughts, and Hook looked from Baelfire to see, to his surprise, a young girl standing beside him. _

"_What do you want with Bae?" One of her arms was flung protectively in front of the boy, and her dark eyes were scrutinizing Hook with a piercing distrust._

"_A Lost Girl?" Hook repeated, raising an eyebrow at the dishevelled girl in front of him. He smirked at the Lost Boys crowded around them. "Needed a change of scenery, boys?"_

_The boys bristled at the comment, and the girl's glare darkened. "Who are you?" she demanded._

"_A friend," he said, lightly. He held his hand and hook up, his eyes flickering to Bae's. "I mean you no harm." _

_The girl eyed his hook suspiciously, and snorted. Hook ignored her; his gaze remained on the boy with Milah's eyes. He gestured for Baelfire to come forward, moving to now conceal his hooked hand behind his back so the boy didn't feel threatened. After a few moments of the tense standoff, Bae pushed past the girl._

_She muttered something darkly to him, but he shook his head and continued on towards Hook, stopping several feet away to stare at the pirate with a distrustful expression. _

_Hook leaned down so he was at eye level with the boy and smiled. There was so much of Milah in him, Hook could see. Not just her eyes; the shape of his nose, his brow line, the crease between his eyebrows as he frowned. He was much older than the last time Hook had seen Milah's little son; he'd been a little boy then, and thankfully from the look on his face, he didn't remember Hook from that brief meeting at the tavern. _Good_, Hook thought. Things would be much easier that way._

"_It's nice to finally meet you, Baelfire," Hook said, trying to be as warm and friendly as possible. "Your mother spoke of you often."_

_The boy flinched violently and withdrew from him. "You knew my mother?"_

_Hook opened his mouth, and then closed it again. What had the crocodile told his son about his mother's fate? That she had left them for a life of adventure, or that she'd died at the hands of pirates? _

"_I did know her," he said simply. "But that is a story for another day." He held out his hand, and after a moment, suspicion still etched on his face, Baelfire reached out to take it. They shook hands, and Hook smiled. "Welcome to Neverland, Baelfire."_

* * *

Like the last time Hook had been to the Sheriff's station, the main entrance was unlocked, and he pushed open the door cautiously, listening intently to any sounds that would indicate Swan or her father were there. There may not be any cars outside, and even though this world seemed obsessed in just using the vehicles to get to a location that was mere minutes away, Hook wouldn't put it past either the prince or Emma to just walk.

He paused just inside the entrance, but he was greeted with only silence. Satisfied, Hook strode further into the station, rounding the corner into the office area where he had knocked the prince out before.

The whole station was much neater this time, and like before, Hook entered Swan's office area first. Hook doubted Swan would've put the hook in her desk again, but checking to make sure had never hurt anyone. Last time, the drawer had been locked, so he'd hid and waited for the prince to arrive to obtain the keys, but, to his surprise, this time the drawer slid open easily.

Unfortunately, Hook was proven correct –the hook was not in the desk. One of his other attachments, the gloved, prosthetic hand Cora had conjured for him, however, was. He frowned, and pulled it out, and saw, to his surprise, that the damn scarf was curled underneath it.

He'd have thought she'd have tossed the damn thing, but here it was. He shook his head, shrugged, and began to search the rest of the station for any other hiding places for the hook. But, to his annoyance, and after about twenty minutes with still nothing and having pretty much upturned everything in the office, Hook had to admit that the hook was not here.

Ticked, he went back to Emma's desk, and collapsed into her seat. He surveyed the office, thinking of where else anything could be hidden. The open desk drawer caught his attention, and he pulled out the scarf and hand again. He wondered if he should just take them both and head back to Tamara's miserable old storage locker, their absence a message to Swan that he was back in town. He frowned at the thought, and ran his fingers over the rough surface of the scarf. He had come all this way to find his hook, and it was very much unlike Captain Hook to simply give up.

There was no point hiding this time, he thought dryly, surveying the messy office room; they'd immediately know someone had been there so, he simply settled into Emma's seat and waited.

* * *

After August – err, _Pinocchio _– had gone home with Geppetto, Emma returned to the loft, accompanied by her parents, Henry, Neal, and Tamara. Tamara seemed on edge, her eyes darting around nervously, but Emma dismissed it as the shock of seeing a grown man turn into a small boy right in front of her eyes, as she herself was still flabbergasted. Sure, she was by now pretty used to the idea that magic and fairy tales really existed, but to see her once upon a time friend, first of all as a dead wooden puppet, and then returned to a little boy with magic … well, it took some time, alright?

And then, there was the nagging fact at the back of Emma's mind that August had been trying to warn her about a woman who was dangerous. Emma didn't doubt that whoever he'd been trying to protect them from had been the one to kill him, and it was only chance that Mother Superior – or, rather, the Blue Fairy – had been able to restore him to life. He had died trying to protect her and her family, and as many problems as Emma learned she had with August (what, with him supposed to have been her protector in this world, but ended up being one of the reasons she'd grown up alone and then gone to jail), he still had been her friend. He had given his life to try and warn her about this woman, and Emma was going to be damned if she didn't figure out who it was and what the hell they wanted.

Once they reached the loft, Emma trailed in after her parents, her mind still swirling about August and his warning. Henry darted past her, dragging Neal over to the sofa. After finding out that his father had spent a good deal of time in Neverland – whose existence Emma was still struggling to believe (just add it to the list, she thought dryly) – Henry had watched the Disney movie at least five times already and wanted to know how they compared.

David headed into the kitchen to make a round of tea and get some snacks for everyone, while Mary Margaret, Emma, and Tamara sat down around the kitchen table.

Tamara, still on looking on edge, leaned forward slightly. She was looking at Mary Margaret with a curious expression in her eyes, and finally – after a few moments of awkwardness – spoke. "So, you're really Snow White? Like … singing to the birds, awoken by True Love's kiss, 'an apple as red as blood', Snow White?"

Mary Margaret smiled softly, and glanced to David in the kitchen. "It's all a bit different than what you've heard," she said, looking back to Tamara and fiddling with the peridot ring on her wedding finger. "But this world somehow got the basics of it all right."

"Evil queen and all?"

David looked up from the tea kettle and Emma glanced immediately to Mary Margaret, whose face paled at the mention of Regina. After a tense moment, she finally nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice small. "Evil queen and all."

"Here she goes by Regina," David said, ready to steer the conversation away from anything that could possibly upset his wife and tilting his head slightly towards Henry and Neal on the sofa. "And she's also Henry's adoptive mother."

Tamara raised an eyebrow. "Of course she is," she said, sounding almost as if she expected nothing less. Emma frowned slightly, but before she could think on it, David was taking charge and interrupted her.

"I know it must be so hard to take it all in," he said immediately, transforming into the leader persona Emma was still getting used to. He set down a tray of cute little sandwiches he'd retrieved from the fridge and a cup of steaming tea in front of Tamara, and continued, "I know it was hard for Emma at first, too."

"It's still hard," Emma muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Tamara shook her head, a small chortle escaping her. "I just – how can this all be real? You're Snow White and Prince Charming, Emma is your daughter even though you all look the same age, Henry's adoptive mother is the Evil Queen, and my fiancé is the son of Rumpelstiltskin. And it's all true?"

Neal had looked up at the mention of his father's name, and he quickly came over to join them at the kitchen table. Henry trailed behind him, coming to stand beside Emma.

"What are we talking about?" Neal asked, a nervous edge to his voice.

"This world," Tamara said, shaking her head. "I – I'm still in shock. If all these are true, what … what else is true?"

Henry jumped at the chance. "Neverland! Tell them what you told me about Neverland, Neal!"

"Neverland?" Tamara repeated, and Mary Margaret patted her hand comfortingly.

Emma, her interest piqued, sat up straighter in her chair as everyone turned to look at Neal. He just snorted and shook his head. "It's not like that," he said, jerking his head to the TV where the movie had paused on the scene of Peter Pan, Wendy Darling, and her brothers, were flying over London. "It was a shadow that took me to Neverland, not Pan himself –"

"Peter Pan?" Emma interrupted, her eyes growing wide like a child's. The stories of the ever young trickster and his escapades had always held a special place in her heart: when she was younger and wishing someone, anyone, would come save her from whatever foster home hell she was in, Peter Pan had been there with an escape to a world that now, apparently, was real. And now, with the opportunity to find out if anything was actually true, she couldn't resist asking: "He really exists?"

Neal didn't answer right away, his brow furrowing deeply. "In a sense, I suppose," he said, his voice low and tight. Emma didn't understand what he meant, but, to her annoyance, Neal continued before she could ask him to clarify. "This world may have gotten a few things right, like the damn fairies being brats and children being taken from this world to over there … but the true Neverland is not the paradise or the escape everyone makes it out to be. Tiger Lily was a warrior princess who the even pirates wouldn't dare cross, the trees would attack you if you offended them, the Lost Boys sort of worked for Captain Hook – you've already met him, Tamara –"

A strange, almost alarmed, look flashed over Tamara's face, but disappeared almost as quickly as it'd come. "I – I have?"

"Yeah," Neal continued, not having noticed anything amiss with his fiancée. His grin turned smug, and he carried on, "The guy we tied up in the apartment's basement was Hook."

Tamara's mouth fell open into a little 'O' of shock. "What? I thought –"

Henry, who had no time for Tamara's continued surprise at everything, said, immediately, "Keep going!"

Neal shot a small amused look to Tamara, and continued on. "Well, Wendy and her brothers were not rich like they show it –"

To Emma's surprise, it was Mary Margaret who spoke now. "Wendy? As in Wendy Darling?"

Neal nodded, a sad smile puckering his face. "That's the one. She – well, the movie got it wrong." He paused for several moments, his eyes getting a far away, sorrowful, look to them. "There are mermaids in Neverland, and they are just as vengeful and cruel as Disney makes them out to be. They … they didn't just _try _to drown Wendy when they encountered her: they succeeded."

The table fell into a shocked silence and Emma sucked in a deep breath. "She died? The mermaids –" _Mermaids_, _are you serious right now_ – "killed her? Why?"

"But," Henry said, his eyes trained on the TV screen now with a wide, naïve innocence, "you said Peter Pan was real, so wouldn't he have stopped them? Didn't the mermaids only like him? He never would've hurt Wendy!"

Neal laughed harshly and Henry flinched back into Emma's side. "Oh, the Lost Boys weren't the only ones working for Captain Hook – so were the mermaids. It was on his orders they killed her, I'm sure of it."

Emma stared at her ex, astounded. She thought of the Hook she knew – the flirtatious and strangely vulnerable pirate – and while she knew he was vicious and a serious threat, she hadn't actually thought him capable of murdering a child. Upon reflex, Emma pulled Henry slightly closer to her. Ever since Neal had planted the idea that the pirate could possibly hurt Henry to get to Mr. Gold, Emma couldn't get the thought out of her head and now … well, Henry was going nowhere near Hook as far as she could manage it. "He – Hook had them kill her? Why?"

Neal's face darkened. "It's a long story," he said again. Everyone was still quiet, watching Neal with wide eyes. "But, basically, one day Wendy went out to the Mermaid Lagoon because Hook said they wanted to see her and well, she never came back. I went looking for her and ... and I found her body on the side of the Lagoon, soaking wet. I was too late; she'd been gone for hours by the time I got there." He paused, and shook his head. "Time works differently in Neverland, but I left it shortly after her death. Michael and John were fine when I left; for all I know, they might still be alive. But Wendy … Wendy Darling died in Neverland and it was on Hook's orders."

The table lapsed into silence, Emma's arm tight around Henry's waist. His brow was furrowed, and a deep frown was threatening to break across his face. She pulled him closer to her, but he still didn't smile.

Mary Margaret also noticed; "Let's change the subject," she said, brightly. "What else do you want to know, Tamara?"

Tamara's eyes flickered to Emma, and then back to Mary Margaret. "How … how are you –?"

"How are we the same age?" Emma said dryly.

David started in on the story, one Emma had heard a thousand times already. Crazy or not, she may be more used to the idea that magic really existed versus the fact that her parents had been living under a curse for her entire life, locked in an ageless state. As David started in on the story of the Blue Fairy's suggestion of a magical wardrobe to take baby Emma to safety, adult Emma stood, feeling awkward, and went into the kitchen to grab some tea.

She stood, leaning against the counter and sipping her tea, her mind drifting back to Neal's story of Neverland and poor Wendy Darling. She imagined the girl's last, terrifying moments, and shuddered. Peter Pan had been a lifeline to Emma growing up, an escape from her real, terrible world, and to find out that Wendy, sweet, lovely Wendy, had been killed by the mermaids on the orders of Captain Hook was a painful reminder that all the fairy tales were darker than this world made them out to be.

Emma didn't know what mermaids were really like, but this world had enough stories of mermaids pulling sailors to their deaths underneath the roaring waves that she felt she could relate to what Wendy must've felt. In fact, Emma herself had had a near drowning experience when she was around thirteen.

It had been a cool spring day and Emma's foster family of the month had taken her and a bunch of the other kids they had on a small outing to a lake nearby. The lake had been freezing cold, having only unthawed from the winter, but Emma had braved its waters, if only to escape the scrutiny of that particularly nasty foster mother. She'd been swimming a few lengths, having learned to swim from that time she'd stayed at a home next to a community centre with a pool, when a large wave had come out of nowhere and nearly knocked her out.

Emma remembered the cold feeling of terror settling down into her gut, icy water making her choke as she tried to find her bearings in the dark lake. She'd thought that that was it, that this was how she was going to die, that all little Emma Swan would be remembered for was the tragic swimming accident that ended her life, and had nearly gone hysterical with terror. Luckily for Emma, she'd been close to the shore, and two of her older foster brothers, whose names she had long since forgotten, had seen her go under and were able to reach her in time to pull her to shore.

Poor Wendy Darling, Emma thought sadly. No one had been there to save her.

A voice jolted Emma, and she turned to see Tamara standing beside her, empty tea cup extended. "Pour me some too?"

"Oh, sure." Emma grabbed the tea pot, and poured a hot stream into Tamara's cup. "Had enough of the love story to end all love stories?"

Tamara snorted. "No, no. I just –" She looked back to Mary Margaret and David at the table, shaking her head "– I just wanted some more tea," she finished lamely.

Emma smiled sympathetically at her. "Listen, I get it. I know it's tough. I didn't believe it for months when Henry first told me, and sometimes I still can't believe it."

"It is a lot to take in," Tamara admitted. "But, I'm working on it." Her eyes flickered over to Neal and her smile deepened into sincerity. "Neal's been really great with it all, explaining everything. I'm so lucky to have him."

Emma smiled back. "I'm glad." She paused, wondering how to phrase it, and then decided to barrel right in. "Tamara, I know how this is going to sound, but I have to get it out there: you know what would happen to this town and the people here if anyone found out about this, right? This place … we'd all be at risk here if anyone knew about us."

"Oh," Tamara said, surprise lifting her features into a curious expression. "Oh, of course! Emma, you don't have to worry about that; I would never tell anyone about Storybrooke." She smiled, earnestly. "You can trust me."

Emma wasn't expecting it, certainly not from Tamara, but there it was. The feeling that something was off, that she wasn't being truthful, hit Emma hard in the gut.

_You can trust me_.

_Liar._

Tamara was still looking at Emma, so she forced a smile onto her face, and swallowed. "That's good to know," she said, speaking each word as clearly as she could muster. Tamara smiled back at Emma, and at that moment, Mary Margaret joined them, an empty tray of sandwiches in her hands.

"Emma, can you pass me that loaf of bread?" Mary Margaret asked. "David ate all the sandwiches again."

Emma snapped back to reality, and straightened her back. She smiled at her mother and said, "Yeah sure."

As Emma handed her mother the bread, Tamara drifted back to the table and sat down beside Neal. Emma watched her with narrowed eyes. What the hell had that been about? Why had her lie detector gone off? Seriously, though, what the hell?

"Emma? Are you alright?" Mary Margaret asked, peering curiously at her.

Emma shook her head, frowning. There was no way she could let her mother in on her thoughts, not with Tamara and Neal still in their living room. "I'm – I'm just thinking about August and all of that," she lied. Then, she added, as idea bloomed in her head, "I think I'm gonna head down to the sheriff's station for a little bit. Get some work done, you know." _Do some background checks on Neal's fiancée, you know, the usual_.

Before Mary Margaret could protest or say anything really, Emma had set down her mug and was heading to the door to grab her jacket.

"Where are you going?" David asked immediately, half getting to his feet as Emma passed him.

God, it was weird having people who cared about when and where you went, Emma thought, fastening her gun to its holder on her belt before pulling on her coat. "I've got to run down to the sheriff's station for a bit," she repeated, flipping her hair out and over the tall collar of her black pea jacket. "Okay?"

"I'll come with you!" Henry said, excitedly jumping up from the table and rushing to fetch his jacket from the sofa. "Can we go to Marco's after to see Pinocchio?"

"Uh … I guess so."

"Want to give us a lift back to Granny's, Emma?" Neal asked, looking suddenly terribly uncomfortable at being left alone with David and Mary Margaret, lest they question him about the circumstances that led to him not being around in Emma's life for nearly eleven years.

Emma certainly did not want to, but it didn't look like she had much of a choice in the matter as both Tamara and Neal were getting to their feet and pulling their coats on. "Alright then," she muttered, and led the way out of the apartment.

* * *

Emma, who hadn't had a chance to have her tea, grabbed a coffee when she dropped off Neal and Tamara at the B&B, and then headed to the station with a quiet Henry in tow.

"She's not in here," Henry said, finally, indicating the open storybook on his lap. "Wendy."

Emma smiled sadly, and took a small sip of her coffee to give her a moment to think before answering. That, unfortunately, was a mistake – it was blazing hot, and scalded her tongue, causing her to choke. Henry, unsympathetic, laughed, and took the coffee out of her hands so Emma didn't drive them right off the road.

"Well Dr. Frankenstein wasn't in there either," Emma managed to say finally, her mouth still on fire. "Maybe whoever wrote it didn't know about different lands?"

"Maybe," Henry said, the amusement at Emma's misfortune with her coffee fading. "You were right about Captain Hook, Mom," he added, his voice small. "He is dangerous."

They lapsed into silence as Emma pulled the bug into the spot reserved for her at the station. Henry had thought they'd be all back in the Enchanted Forest by now, living his fairy tale life, and Emma could tell the constant disappointments of this world were starting to get to him. He had been so eager to create an Operation Codfish, but now his face was small and scared at the thought of Captain Hook – so very un-Henryish.

As the duo started up to the station, Emma sipping the coffee she'd retrieved from Henry, a voice called out their names. They turned to see Archie and Pongo standing a few feet away from them.

"Archie!" Henry exclaimed, excitedly, running back down the steps towards him. "Did you hear about August?"

"I did," Archie said, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it. "I'm just taking Pongo for a walk to clear my head." He paused and looked up to Emma on the steps. "I don't think I ever got a chance to thank you for taking care of him while I was … indisposed."

Henry's face darkened at the mention of the time Archie had been kidnapped by Cora and then tortured by Hook, and Emma knew he was just adding it to his mental list of the many awful things Hook had done.

"It was no problem," Emma said, quickly. "I'm glad it was only for a short time."

Archie smiled, and gestured with his umbrella to the road ahead of him. "Would you two care to join me? Clear your own heads about this whole August-is-now-Pinocchio-again business?"

"I've got to get some work started," Emma began, apologetically, even though she was eager for the chance to pull up a background search on Tamara without Henry around, "but Henry, why don't you go? I'll be here for a while, you'll just get bored."

Henry and Archie agreed, and then headed off together, Henry taking the leash of Pongo, a small smile returning to his face. Emma watched them until they rounded a corner, and then headed into the station by herself. Her thoughts immediately went back to Tamara –she had seemed perfectly normal on the ride over to Granny's, but Emma couldn't forget that she had so blatantly lied to her.

_You can trust me_.

As she turned the corner to enter the main area, her mind still churning, Emma froze, teetering slightly forward as her body tried to account for the sudden change in momentum.

You have got to be bloody kidding.

Sitting in her chair, his feet propped up on her desk, his ringed fingers brushing over the surface of the scarf she'd foolishly kept, was Captain Hook. His gaze was lowered, focused on the scarf, and he didn't look up, but Emma knew he was aware of her presence from the small smirk on his face.

She stepped slightly forward, her right hand reaching to the gun strapped to her belt just in case. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice steady, and thankfully not showing her inner rush of panic.

He still didn't look at her, although the smirk widened. "That's a broad question, love," he said, philosophically, his voice rougher than she remembered it being. "What am I doing here? What are any of us doing here, really? I suppose that's life's existential question, isn't it?"

"Don't be smart, Hook," Emma snapped, her mind outside on Henry and Archie. Sure they'd gone off for a walk, but Emma knew they could be back at any moment.

Hook chuckled, a dark and throaty sound, drawing her back to the present. "It's not like it's something I can turn off, love."

A rush of sudden rage flushed through her – she did not have time for him today, not when August had nearly died, not when Neal's fiancée was acting suspicious as hell, especially not that she just learned Hook had basically killed a young girl. "What the hell are you doing here, Hook? How did you get back to Storybrooke?"

His smirk flickered, and disappeared into a scowl. "That is an interesting tale," he said, his voice changing to a darker, less breezy, tone. "I had had plans to find my ship and sail triumphantly back to your sorry excuse of a town after I got out of that damned cellar. But, unfortunately for me, someone found and took her first." Finally, he looked away from the scarf and up to her. His face was thinner than it had been the last time she'd seen him, and his eyes wilder. His infamous eyeliner was smudged terribly and it gave his face a feral edge. He fell back into a withering smirk, which caught Emma slightly off guard. Even with everything she knew about the pirate, she had never seen the true spite and sneering side of Captain Hook directed at her. The swirling blackness in his blue eyes unnerved her so, as quick as blinking, she smirked right back at him.

"We needed a quick way back."

"My ship is the fastest in all the lands," Hook agreed. If he hadn't sounded so cold and dark, Emma would've thought he might've been making a pass at her, but as it was, that seemed to be the last thing on his mind. Emma held his gaze, and his smirk deepened. Finally, he looked back down to the scarf in his hand. "I was surprised to see this here. You're an oddly sentimental one, Swan."

"Souvenir," Emma said shortly, trying to ignore the increasing rate of alarm in her chest. She had never dealt with Hook head on, alone, when he was in one of his more violent revenge chapters, nor with Henry in so close proximity. And, add on top of that the slight issue he was holding the scarf that she'd kept for no good reason … Goddamn it.

Hook snorted. "I told you you'd make a good pirate," he said, almost more to himself than to her.

A pirate; the comparison suddenly inflamed Emma's anger even more. "Did you do it?"

"Did I do what?" he asked, lazily, an amused smirk on his face as he carelessly tossed the scarf onto Emma's desk.

Emma didn't flinch. "Did you kill Wendy Darling?"

He looked back up at her, startled. His eyes narrowed and, so quickly Emma jumped in surprise, he swung his feet off her desk, and stood. He still grimaced slightly at the movement, and Emma felt slightly more secure in the knowledge that at least he was not at his full strength yet. But, not taking any chances, Emma swiftly drew her weapon and pointed it at Hook. She felt clumsy, with one hand on the gun and the other still on the coffee cup, which sent a hot dribble down her hand as she adjusted herself, but it would have to do for now.

"Don't come any closer, Hook. I'm armed."

He stopped a few feet away from her, completely ignoring the gun. "Who told you that?"

"What, about Wendy?" Emma said, aware that her speech had sped up as it often did when she was nervous. "What does it matter who told me; did you do it?"

His eyes were still narrowed at her, but then slowly realization dawned upon him. He smirked. "Baelfire, I'm guessing?" He shook his head, and then, said, his voice oddly quiet, "Well, I suppose I did, then."

He made to take a step forward, but Emma clocked the gun, her mind racing and heart pounding. "You killed a little girl?" she exclaimed. "An innocent girl? What the hell is wrong with you?"

He shook his head, suddenly very serious. "You don't know the full story."

"I don't need to know the whole story," she spat, raising the gun at him. Finally, his eyes flickered to it, before his cool gaze flickered to her.

"Believe whatever you want, love." He raised his arms in the universal sign of surrender, but the gesture appeared only mocking. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want what is mine." He jerked his head pointedly at his left arm. "May I have it back?"

Her thoughts fell immediately on the hook sitting safely in her bedside table at home. Even if it had been in the station, there was no way in hell Emma was going to give this deranged, revenge-crazed murderer the weapon he had just recently used to try to kill Mr. Gold. She smiled condescendingly at him, fingers still tight around the gun. "You think I'm going to give you a weapon that was recently used in an attempted murder?"

Hook's expression darkened, his mouth opening with a slight growl. He took another step towards her, and Emma raised the gun several inches higher. He ignored it, and continued to move closer to her, his expression was as black as she'd ever seen it, his eyes a whirling ocean storm. "How did he do it?" he demanded, his voice as sharp as a sword. "How did he survive?"

"Don't come any closer," she said, as a way of an answer.

From the way his face contorted into a snarl, Hook didn't like that response, but he did stop moving. His gaze never flickered from her face, and the intensity of his murderous, angry eyes made her uncomfortable.

"How?" he repeated. Twisted curiosity with a touch of poorly concealed torment lilted his already accented voice. "How did the crocodile cheat justice once more?"

Emma stared at Hook for a few moments, aware that any second this could turn uglier than it already was looking. Hook may be still injured and without his hook, but she couldn't see if he was carrying his razor sharp sword. Sure, she had the gun, but he was a lethal, 300 year old pirate furious at being denied revenge – or _justice _as he called it – and she wouldn't put it past him to try and attack her anyways.

She could try and threaten him with the gun, backing him up until she could get him into the jail cell, but Henry was outside, and things could go downhill very quickly if he came in here while she was still in the process of locking Hook up. The only thing she could do was distract Hook long enough for her to escape the station and get Henry to a safe place.

So, stalling, Emma countered, "How did you get back to Storybrooke?"

Hook laughed shortly to himself, and took another step towards Emma. She held her ground, lifting her chin to stare back defiantly at him. His smirk deepened and stepped forward once more. "I believe I asked you first."

"Actually, no, you didn't," Emma retorted, her hand tightening slightly on the coffee cup she was still holding onto as she readjusted her grip on the gun. A thought appeared to her … if her mouth was still burning from a sip and a small amount of it on her hand had made her wince, then what would a whole cup full do to someone?

Suppressing a smirk at the thought of what she was about to do to him, she took a step towards Hook, lowering her gun a smidgeon. "But I'll play along."

His brow crinkled, a small glint of distrust and confusion flickering in his eyes, and he raised an eyebrow, indicating she should continue.

Her hand tightening around the coffee cup as she tried to calm her hammering heart, Emma said, "It was Mary Margaret."

Hook stared. "Who the bloody hell is Mary Margaret?"

Emma shook her head, suppressing an amused smile at Hook's expression. "I mean, Snow. Snow White. Here she's Mary Margaret – oh, whatever. She … she killed Cora with some magic candle thing, and exchanged Cora's life for Gold's. Or something."

That obviously hadn't been what Hook was expecting. Pure, honest surprise flitted across his features and he said, "Cora's dead?"

At his distraction, Emma saw her chance. Praying the lid of the coffee would fly off once it hit him, she chucked the cup at him. She aimed for his chest, and rather than waiting around to see if it would hit its mark, she twirled on her heel and ran.

* * *

A/N: Let me know what you thought!


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